Up in Flames
by gloriousforbes
Summary: Fifteen years ago, they took everything from her. Now the residents of Mystic Falls are about to discover that Hell hath no heat like a Caroline Forbes burned. AU/AH, Based off Revenge, Eventual Klaroline.


**New fic, who's excited? The muse kind of hit me in the face and I had to get it down and evidently this is the somewhat frazzled result. Essentially, it's based off the TV Show Revenge, although I do plan on deviating from the plot of the show a bit. I'll let you figure out who is who!**

**For Timebomb readers: Don't worry, not giving up on that!**

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own Revenge, or TVD.**

* * *

Once upon a time, she was happy. Naïve, young, ignorant, but happy nevertheless. And it showed too; there wasn't a single person who knew Caroline Forbes as a young girl who didn't think she simply _shone_. But then things changed. It only took a single night for it to happen, and the morning after she woke to the harsh light of reality. Of betrayal, so deep she could only fathom it in the crevices of her heart. But then, she was only eight. She didn't understand, not then. It took a year for her mind to catch up to the hurt, and when it did, the truth was difficult to come by. It was hidden, and what fragments she got were just the tips of the iceberg, and she couldn't dive, she was just a child.

When she was eighteen she was released. Waiting for her outside the centre was a man, maybe the same age as her, maybe a little older, with dark hair flopping in his eyes and a tall, lanky build.

"What are you supposed to be, the welcoming committee?" She asks, stopping just short of him, her arms folded across her chest.

Her hair is different, he thinks. Not golden anymore, she's dyed it brown. It doesn't really suit her. "That's me. Supposed to help integrate you into your new life beyond the fence." He responds, just as snarkily, but he's still smiling because it's definitely her. Pretty blue eyes, that's how he knows.

"Well I don't need help." She says, going to move past him.

"Caroline." He says, and she stops immediately. "That is your name, isn't it? Caroline Forbes?"

She recovers quickly. "So you know who I am." Her tongue flicks over his lips, moistening them. "Are you a reporter?"

"No." He swallows. "I was a friend of your father's."

"Was?" Her lips quirk upwards. "I'm guessing you didn't want anything to do with him after the whole terrorist thing." She says it without any inflection, but from the way her eyes flicker – not a completely healed wound then.

"He wasn't a terrorist." The guy takes a step forwards purposefully. "And he trusted me to get something to you in the event that … well, you know." He shuffles. Awkward.

"In the event of what?" She rolls her eyes, but part of her is curious.

He looks at her, his brows hiked. And then furrowed, and then flat, and beneath that his eyes flicker with a mixture of pity and sadness. "You don't know."

She doesn't respond.

"Your father is dead."

A sudden image flashes. He's grinning, tossing her in the waves, helping her find shells, wiping the tears that fall when she steps on a particularly sharp one. A drawing appears in the sand at their feet, an eight curved into another eight. _Double Infinity_, he'd said, _that's how long I'll love you for_. And then, laughing, they'd run, the sand between their toes, and the sun on their faces, a promise of happiness and forever.

Then the image is gone, and all that remains are echoes, each as painful as the last. She blinks away tears. "How long?"

"Three years." His breathing is laboured. "I'm sorry."

She doesn't break down – she won't. Without a word, he opens the door to the shiny black SUV parked behind them, and pulls out a box. It has their symbol carved onto its lid. He hands it to her. It is heavy, but if this is all that remains then she's going to carry it to the ends of the earth if need be.

"He wanted you to have this."

She stares down at it, a lump in her throat, before looking back up to him. She swallows, and a small amount of the pain is gone. "Who are you?"

He tries being friendly, generous even. "Jeremy Gilbert." He clears his throat. "Do you need a ride, or a place to –"

"– I'm fine." She cuts him off, before folding the box underneath an arm. She too, attempts a smile. "I guess you'd better get back to greeting the next misunderstood teenage delinquent."

The moment is bittersweet, and lost all too soon. She walks away from him, down the path that leads to the actual road, and within minutes she is just a small figure, waiting at a bus stop. It is another five years before he sees her again.

* * *

There's going home, and then there's going _home._ One is simple, hardly rates on a scale of emotion, and is all about comfort. The other is decidedly more complex, because it involves more than just physical proximity; going _home_ is about reliving something. It's seeking out the place where things started, where things can just as easily end, and wondering what will change between those two points. Caroline Forbes was going _home._ To Mystic Falls, if you wanted to place a label on it. A semi-quiet town squashed between the sea and the waterfalls for which it was named. Nostalgia had set in the second she'd glimpsed the welcome sign out of the corner of her eye. She'd made this trip before, but never alone, never behind the wheel of the car, always partially hidden by the dashboard on the passenger side, because it had taken a while for her growth spurt to kick in.

She shook the memories off, hurriedly, and for the rest of the drive to the house, she made herself focus on the road, and not the way her hands gripped the steering wheel.

She was not nervous, definitely not. Nerves come when there's a lack of preparation, and if there's one thing she's spent the last five years doing, it was preparing herself for this.

When she pulled into the driveway, she couldn't stop the lift at the corners of her mouth. It was exactly as she remembered it, after all this time. Beaten white weatherboards, large open windows, the epitome of what a beach house shoulder be. Albeit, one slightly bigger than your average shack. But bigger didn't mean full, she reminded herself. No, she was willing to bet it had been a while since this house was anything but empty of emotion. She wasn't entirely surprised to see a woman waiting for her. Melissa Jeffers, that was her name; the woman handling the leasing of the house. A smile already in place, Caroline slid out from the driver's seat as soon as she killed the engine.

"Miss Branson, right?" Melissa stretched a hand forward, beaming.

"Please," Caroline took off her sunglasses, "Call me Emily."

Melissa smiled again – or even more, really. "Well, it's nice to put a face to the voice. There have been so many phone calls recently about this place!"

"I bet." So the sales techniques had already started.

Melissa hesitated, as though waiting for Caroline to say something else. When no other words came, she clapped her hands together. "Shall we?" She gestured to the front door.

Caroline nodded. "Please."

They walked up the faded white steps, on to the porch. Melissa spent no time in launching into her sales monologue, which was almost meant to sound like I'm-just-saying-this-on-the-spot-to-convince-you-of-how-unique-you-are-and-how-unique-this-place-is-it's-perfect-see monologue. Or perhaps that was just Caroline over-analysing the entire situation. As it was, she tuned the woman out. The inside of the house looked fairly the same as well, and for moments on end, she would stand looking at the view, or looking at the stairs, as though the ghosts of her past would suddenly appear.

Damn it, she was getting distracted. She turned back to the woman, and smiled once more. "I almost can't believe they'd want to let this place go." She said.

Melissa tinkered, the very sound of gossip. "Yes, well, rumour has it, Mrs Saltzman came home to find Mr Saltzman and his mistress in bed together."

Caroline smiled. _Rumour_ it was not. Still, their divorce worked in her favour, so who was she to point fingers?

"The bed is no longer here, obviously." Melissa prattled on, and Caroline had to stifle a laugh as they swept upstairs. "Isobel made sure of that." She added, fingering the pearls around her neck, before motioning to the master bedroom. Once they were done with the first floor, they walked back down and out on to the porch that overlooked the ocean and the surrounding area, including the small jetty. Another memory hovered, but she pushed it out of mind, instead turning her head to the right, where a statuesque house was perched, impossible to miss. If this house was a passing dot on the shoreline, then the one next to it was a resounding blotch. An elegant blotch, obviously.

She barely blinked at the sight.

"Nearly 360° views." Melissa started, before noticing where Caroline was looking. "Oh, how could I forget! The impressive neighbours, the Lockwoods."

Caroline looked away, her hand resting on the porch bannister. The carving was still there. A little weathered, maybe, but it was present and just as familiar as the day when they'd engraved it together. And like the forever entwined symbols, there was only one route for her now. Her eyes were drawn back up to the manor. A smile flickered at the corners of her mouth. Yes, one route, and no turning back.

"You really won't find a better address than this." Melissa hedged.

Caroline smiled and turned around. "I'll take it."

"Wonderful." She beamed, pulling her bag in closer to her body. "I'll go draw up the contracts."

It took another ten minutes for Emily Branson to be declared as the renter of the house, and not one minute of it was spent hesitant at the decision. Her belongings would arrive sometime next week, and she'd settle into the house soon after that, just in time for summer, when the town would be in the grips of its busiest season.

* * *

After the boxes were unloaded, the furniture arranged and all her other belongings sorted, there was nothing left to do but head back into the town. It wasn't set completely on the waterfront – that was reserved for the high roller mansions, and a few fishing ports here and there. But it was close enough for Caroline to walk to the main square. The sun was blaring down on the sidewalks, sending people reeling for shade and the comfort of a Starbucks Frappe. Most of the buildings were relics of a time long gone, but some had been converted into – was that a Chanel store she spied? Smirking and making a note to head there later, she continued down the footpath until she reached her destination.

The Mystic Grill was nothing like the other fancy restaurants that seemed to crop up here and there, and everything like she remembered. Faded lettering, a faint smell of the sea, and a warm atmosphere. When she entered, a few heads turned, but she put that down to the sound of her heels clicking against the floorboards. From what she could recall, this wasn't exactly the preferred hang-out of the privileged of this town.

"Emily!" A voice rang out from one of the booths, and a stylishly dressed girl emerged. Her dark curls bounced as she rushed forward to give Caroline a hug. "Ugh, I'm so glad you didn't get lost." She pulled away, before flopping down on to the seat.

Caroline laughed. "Well I'm not geographically challenged like you, Bonnie." She teased.

"I made it to the eastern seaboard, didn't I?" She replied, mildly indignant.

"With the help of a GPS, I'm sure." She laughed, and soon enough Bonnie had joined in.

"Now I know you just arrived," Bonnie bit her lip, a hesitant smile in place, "But I kind of have a favour to ask of you."

Caroline tilted her head. "Okay, what?" She asked, slowly.

"Buy a ticket for the Falls Charity Luncheon?" Bonnie bit her lip, before continuing hurriedly. "Carol is hounding me about getting numbers up because she's making some art donation for it, and it's sort of the first event I'm in charge of and I just want to make a good impression."

"Carol? As in Carol Lockwood?" Caroline murmured. Something twisted inside her stomach.

"The one and only." Bonnie rolled her eyes. "And let me tell you, rumours of her malice have _not_ been greatly exaggerated."

Caroline smiled wryly; she was all too painfully aware of Carol's _malice_. But Bonnie wasn't to know that, in fact, no one but the devil himself could guess at the turmoil that was always hidden just beneath her perfectly crafted smile.

Maybe the same could be said for herself.

The other girl was still waiting for her answer; Caroline grinned. "Well, you know me – champagne and _hors d'oeuvres_, I'm on board!"

"Really?" Bonnie asked, her face lighting up. "Because it's tomorrow, and tickets aren't exactly cheap."

"I'd love to." Caroline smiled. "Besides, it will give me an excuse to go shopping and buy a new outfit."

Bonnie cocked her head. "You need an excuse for that?" Her face broke into laughter, and Caroline swatted her hand playfully. They were halfway through a round of Carol Lockwood rumours when a waiter approached their table. Caroline glanced upwards, and just like that, she was assaulted by another memory. This one was of a boy, and a dog, and a chance childhood meeting that hadn't left her to this day.

It took a second, and then her polite smile was back in place, only to be met by his curious blue eyes. "Hey." He said. "You look familiar." And then, as though he'd caught himself and realised that it wasn't just the two of them after all, he grinned, shaking his head. "Sorry, that was, um." He looked to Bonnie, and then back to her. "Sorry." His smile was lopsided, and it sent a wave of familiarity and something else she couldn't name rush through her. He turned back to Bonnie now. "What can I get you guys?"

Bonnie looked at her, smiling slyly. "Two vodka tonics, thanks."

"And some water." Caroline added. She hadn't stopped smiling.

"Got it." He made a point of looking at both of them, but when he turned to walk away, his eyes lingered on hers. Caroline cursed herself internally as soon as he was out of proximity. The last thing she needed was a distraction. When she turned back to her friend, she could tell the topic was not going to be dropped any time soon. Bonnie was practically beaming.

"He's cute, right?" She said, as a different waiter brought them their drinks.

Caroline shrugged, nonchalant. "Yeah, I guess." She took a sip of her drink before anything else slipped out. But Bonnie wasn't to be deterred.

"I think he liked you." Bonnie swirled the straw around in her glass a little too innocently.

She laughed. "If you say so." Swallowing some more of her drink, she glanced over her shoulder as the door to the Grill opened. A girl sashayed in, and if Caroline thought she had drawn the eyes with her entrance, it was nothing compared to the eyes that swiveled on this new arrival now. Her hair was dark brown, perfectly straight, and when she flicked it off her face, doe eyes surveyed the scene before her. Soon, she'd spotted someone. And then she set off across the room towards a man, seated at the bar, with admittedly _fantastic_ hair.

Caroline looked at Bonnie, a curious expression on her face. "That's Elena Gilbert." Bonnie stated, sipping some more of her drink. "She's the professed darling of Mystic Falls." Her nose wrinkled at the words.

"You don't like her?" Caroline asked.

She shrugged. "Oh, she's alright. I just don't really understand why everyone loves her." She glanced over her shoulder, before turning back. "That guy's her fiancé, Stefan Salvatore."

Caroline quirked an eyebrow. "Young love?"

"More like familial obligation." Bonnie grinned, before the shrill noise of her iPhone cut through the conversation. Picking it up, a frown appeared. "It's Her Majesty. I better take this." She paused with the phone halfway to her ear. "Are you going to be alright? Sorry, I –"

"– It's fine." Caroline shooed her away, and the other girl left, her voice suddenly compliant and cheerful. Swallowing the last of her drink, Caroline left the money for the bill underneath her glass, as well as a generous tip. With one last fleeting glance at the bar, she exited the building.

Outside, the sun was still shining. She dug through her bag for her sunglasses, barely glancing in front of her. She had just about grasped her fingers around them when she was bowled over by a bundle of golden fur. Not actually bowled over, because she can hold her ground now, but the golden retriever was doing a pretty good job of trying at any rate.

Laughing, she ran her hands through his fur. Fur so soft she used to use him as a pillow.

_Sammy._ The name echoed in her head, and without thinking she squatted down, rubbing his back and ears that flopped all over the place. He grinned a dog smile back.

"Sorry, he doesn't normally do that." A voice sounded, its source somehow hidden from view by the large dog she was currently petting. When she stood up, she was greeted by the same blue eyes as before. Him. He was slightly more expressive than her, his mouth coming open slightly, his eyes wider, and then his smile was wider as well. "Hey, it's you."

"Hi." She wasn't going to grin, no, not at all.

He ran a hand through his hair, laughing sheepishly. "So I guess this is sorry two times then."

"No, it's okay." She responded, smiling and patting the top of Sammy's head. "I mean, I like dogs."

"It's weird, he doesn't usually like people." He said, ruffling the top of the dog's head. "Do you Sammy?" He murmured affectionately to the dog, who responded by turning and licking his hands. Laughing, he wiped his hands on his jeans. "What's your name?" He turned up to her.

The name tugged at her lips. She wanted to tell him who she was, tell him that she remembered everything. But she couldn't. "It's uh – " No, what she couldn't do was just stand here and lie. "You know I have to get going." She swallowed. Now that lie came easily.

His face fell. "Okay." He shrugged, and she tried smiling back, but her face froze. She turned on her heel, practically fleeing the scene. She didn't turn around, didn't stop walking until she reached her house, and even then she could still see his smile and his eyes when she closed hers. Groaning and running a hand over her face, she dashed up the stairs, two at a time, fully intent on taking a shower and not getting out until every trace of Matt Donovan was gone from her mind.

* * *

The water slid over her body, cool, unyielding and swirling. But she hardly felt it these days. It was just one stroke after another through a tunnel of dark, and she wouldn't stop until she could feel the muscles straining to be free of their watery enclosure. But then, she wasn't stupid either. She only ever swam parallel to the coast, and she made sure of that as well. Still, swimming was something of a reprieve for her. Her pace slowed down, and with ease she slid her feet under her until she was treading water, staring at the sight set just past the dunes. Lockwood manor, smaller in the morning light, but still a looming shadow against the horizon. Taking a breath, she started to swim back towards the shore.

She pulled herself from the water, splashing through the shallows until she reached the sand. Her small white robe was exactly where she had left it, stashed underneath the jetty that connected her porch to the beach. She was in the process of pulling it around her body and heading back into the house when she was greeted by a woman, this one with semi-short black hair and angular features. Certainly beautiful, but in a unique way.

"I think you're the first person I've seen doing laps out there." She said, a condescending smile already forming as she nodded to the sea.

Caroline smiled, curiously, demurely, because she knew exactly who this woman was. "Really? It's such a beautiful spot." Picking up the towel, she dried some lingering water from her arms and chest.

The woman nodded. "Must be part of the house's appeal." She tossed her head fluidly in the direction of the manor. "And the neighbours. You did express interest quite suddenly, after all."

Caroline feigned confusion. "I'm sorry, I – "

"I'm Isobel Saltzman." The woman smiled, flashing her perfectly white teeth. "You're living in my house, right?" It was a simple question, with a simple subtext that Caroline did not miss.

"Oh!" She exclaimed in understanding. "It's lovely to meet you. I guess I owe you thanks." She smiled right back. "I'm Emily Branson." She highly doubted she needed to tell this woman that. No, facts like her name and her age were probably already stored inside this woman's head like small threads of a greater web of gossip. And if this woman had a web of knowledge, then Caroline had an entire wall of tapestries. "You have a beautiful home." She offered, slinging her towel over her shoulder.

"I know." Isobel responded, without much prompting. "My husband and I were very comfortable there." Her smile was still in place, but it was more forced, which would probably have something to do with finding her husband in bed with another woman.

Caroline smiled. "I'm sure I will be too."

"For now." She responded, superiority returned. "I wouldn't want you to get too comfortable and put a dent in your damage deposit." She laughed, sashaying her way back through the sand. Another smug smile was sent in Caroline's direction, before she walked further along the beach.

Caroline watched her go.

Isobel Saltzman. For a moment, she was back at her desk, watching footage of her father's trial, watching as the very same woman stood at a stand and _lied,_ lied about someone who'd thought she was a friend, someone who'd worked with him, his _goddamn secretary and she had just lied._ Maybe her father had trusted Isobel, but that was not a mistake Caroline was going to make, and even if it took her to the ends of her wits and the end of her life, she was going to make this woman pay. She was going to make all of them pay.

Her eyes drifted up to the manor. A smile formed. Today, it would start.

* * *

**Sorry if it was a bit info-dump-y / boring. Promise it will get better? Leave me some feedback!**

**I'm on tumblr as gloriousforbes 8D**


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